


Touch 1: Langly

by rsadelle



Series: Touch [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-03-15
Updated: 1999-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There isn't nearly enough Langly/Byers fic out there. Byers is the controlling one in this universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch 1: Langly

**Author's Note:**

> A Bedroom Note: I know what we saw in "Kill Switch," however, that was nothing more than glorified fan fic and therefore not canon.

I watched him, them, when she came to visit. His sister. They were always touching. John and Jane Byers. They sound like some sort of fucking children's book. But they kept touching. He'd brush his hand across the top of her head at the breakfast table or she'd brush up against him for just a minute as they were walking. We never touch. We just live our lives, keep going, publish the newsletter, but there's never any real contact. We never connect on any level other than our paranoia.

So I started touching him. Little things, really. I put my hand at the small of his back as I moved past him to reach a part, or leaned into him, just a bit, when we went to the movies. I don't think he really notices what I'm doing. He doesn't acknowledge it, but he doesn't pull away from it either. He gives off so much heat. Leaning into him is like leaning into a fire, but I never worry that he'll burn if I get too close.

Frohike's gone for the weekend. He's fishing. Citizen Kane is on cable tonight. John insists we watch it. He says it's one of the best movies ever made.

"I wrote a paper on this for a film criticism class once," he tells me as we make popcorn. "There are all kinds of psychologically interesting details and wonderful camera angles. Welles uses dark and light to produce these magnificent images." I can almost see what he must have been like as an undergraduate in a film crit class, analyzing this piece of American culture.

We sit on the couch, but he gets up, telling me we've forgotten something. He comes back and sits closer to me and hands me a box of Sweetarts. "Thanks," I say as I smile at him. A few minutes into the movie, I start to fidget a bit. He puts one hand on my leg and gives me a look.

"Stop it. You're distracting me. Besides, you can't fidget through this movie." I stop fidgeting, but he doesn't move his hand. It distracts me a bit. I can feel the heat seeping from his hand all the way through my body. I offer him a Sweetart and he takes it, his fingers brushing against my palm. After that, it's even harder to pay attention to the movie, but I make the effort because he loves the movie. When it's over, we put away the dishes and move back into the living room.

He flips channels until we find Mystery Science Theater 3000. This episode has an odd Mary Martin type. They have a very strange debate about whether the character is male or female. We're both laughing by the time the episode's over. A cheesy old sci fi movie starts, but I'm quickly distracted because I realize that John is leaning back against one arm of the couch, watching me.

"What?"

"Why do you keep touching me?" I'm a little startled, and I suppose it shows, because then he says, "It's okay. I just wondered why." I start to answer him, but I don't know what to say. It doesn't matter, though, because he leans in and kisses me and I'm drowning in it, drowning in him. I can feel his beard rubbing against me and I can feel that heat all along my body as he moves to cover me with more of himself. He pulls his mouth away from mine and I gasp at the loss of contact. I reach up to him, but he just pushes my hands away and moves down the left side of my neck to the point where it connects to my shoulder. Once he's there, he bites me gently, then begins to suck. I know it's going to leave a mark and I want it. I want that mark that will brand me as his.

"Yes," I hiss as he continues to lick and suck that spot. Abruptly, he stops, pulls himself off of me and stands up. I whimper at the loss.

"Come on." He holds his hand out to me. I just stare at him. "Come on. We're not teenagers and we are *not* doing this on the couch." I take his hand and he pulls me up and kisses me before tugging on my hand to take me down the hall to his room.

When we get there, he pushes me down on the bed. He shucks off his jacket, then covers my body with his.

"God, John." I arch up against him. He presses another kiss into the side of my neck and I can feel the heat he radiates warming my blood. He gently removes my glasses and sets them on the nightstand. He makes me sit up so he can pull my shirt off. He works his way down my body, kissing, licking, stopping to leave the occasional mark. Making me his. Finally it is too much and I tug his head back up to me so I can kiss him. I slip my fingers into the knot of his tie and loosen it enough for me to be able to pull it up and over his head. Then I set to work on the buttons on his shirt.

He lets me push him down onto the bed so I can taste him as I undo the buttons. He tastes just the way I want him to. Just salty enough to wipe away the taste of the Sweetarts, but not salty enough to blend in with the popcorn. He twines his hands in my hair when I stop to suck his nipples into hard points. He doesn't let me get all the buttons undone before he stands up to finish the job. He takes off the shirt, then peels off his pants and boxers. He undoes my jeans and I lift my hips to let him pull them off of me.

He leans over me and licks me, making me arch up towards him. He ignores me and moves up to kiss me again. He reaches past me to pull a tube of lube out of the nightstand. He moves his mouth down to that spot on my neck as he slicks his fingers and slowly slides them into me. He finds that spot that makes me writhe against him, wanting more. He chuckles softly.

"You like that, hmm? Don't worry, Langly. I'm going to fuck you. Long and slow and deep." I can hear the almost growling tone and I can feel his lips move against my neck. He pulls his fingers out of me and I grab at him. He pushes my hands away and pulls my legs up. He slides into me, slowly, until I can feel him pressing against my prostate. He groans.

"God, Langly. You're so tight, hot." I push up towards him.

"Please. Please, John, please." He pulls out a bit, then thrusts back into me and, god, it's long and slow and deep. He reaches down, his fingers still covered in slick, to grasp my cock. He strokes me gently, sliding his fingers almost teasingly across my skin. I try to push into his hand, or farther onto his cock, but he's in control and he won't let me.

He continues to fuck me, all the while gently teasing me, moving his hands from my cock to my nipples and leaning in to kiss me, until I can no longer think. All I can do is feel. Finally he gives in to it and begins to thrust faster until I come and then I can feel him coming and it's so good.

I lay back as he slowly pulls out of me. He leans down for one more kiss before he gets up and goes to the bathroom. He comes back with a washcloth to wipe us both up a bit. He returns the cloth to the bathroom before coming back to drape himself over me, his mouth resting on the mark on my neck. He pulls the covers up over us as we drift into sleep.


End file.
